Childhood memories - 3

Sometimes, you always miss somebody so much that missing him becomes a forgotten conclusion…

Ani and I are waiting to be taken to school. I must be in 2nd grade and he in Sr. KG. Ravi mama holds our hands and off we go. Through fields, barren lands lined with huge rocks beside the salt pan… this was a shortcut to St Augustine’ High we took everyday.

On the way, he tells us stories; and shows us ‘mugran’ on the way. ‘Mugran’ is the term he created for shit left behind on the fields by people early in the morning…

In the evening, after he returns from work, he plays with us. Sometimes, whenever mom suffered from her ulcers, he cooks, cleans the overhead tank, and looks after mom!

He was like a brother to her and an awesome uncle to us. Though, he is no more a part of our lives anymore, Ani and I cannot forget him.

Childhood memories - 2

Citizen Kane – one of the best movies ever made…

Ranjit and his brother have just got a new tricycle… one with bells and good cushion seats. My brother in the back seat of our sad, old tricycle looks at me with “why don’t we have such a cycle” look?

We ask our mother, and she tells us never to sit on their cycle and never to ask for a new one. Miserable, we watch them pedal happily across the common verandah and ringing the cycle bell only when they reach near our door!

We race every evening on the verandah and most of the times, the new tricycle wins because of its smooth rubber wheels. My brother and I resign to our khatara metal junk.

Then, that very summer vacation, just when we had gotten over the tricycle trauma, their uncle came from the ‘gelf’ with a wonderful, yellow toy helicopter, walking penguins, racing cars, and lots of other goodies…

Among them, my eyes fell on a metallic model toy train. Complete with tracks, signals, tunnels, and railway stations. My first lust...

I don’t know about my brother; I still wait for my rosebud.

Childhood memories - 1

I am not feeling well... and besides, many of you wanted me to write again. So here goes...

This blog may be taking an inward turn here onwards. A journey, which you may want to read at your own risk because in my childhood you may come across yours.

Parts of me died: a child died; parts that may never be reborn. Why did the child inside me die?

Let me go in to some memories that I still have of that glorious period:

It's 5pm on a random evening at Master building, our chawl. The primary roots of the tree of life.

On the wall-less terrace, all my neighbours’ kids and my brother are waiting for Soni chechi to return from school. She has afternoon school; you know, she is in 5th grade!

We did this everyday. Most of the days, she came on time. Some days, she came later than usual.

She is the pack leader and the alpha female! We never play anything till she arrives. It was she who decides which game we play, who tells stories first when there is a power breakdown, who is in which team… and who gets what punishment for cheating… she even decides ‘time please’ for all of us!

We play till the sun set. Some days, while waiting for her, I watch the sun set from my knees to my feet.

When she is late, I cry… few others cry too.

We shifted from Master building when I was in third grade, which means this memory is old. And, I have never met Soni chechi again. I do not think I will recognize her if I ever see her again…

But why do I still remember those evenings:

Some random memories, like random dreams, arrive randomly. But few, like recurring dreams, recur randomly.